Prisms of No Colour

2

Micky frowned, looking at him and moving in a little closer.

"You can't see?" He asked, worried, unsure of what else to say.

Mike squinted and blinked. Realizing his eyes weren't going to focus, he shook his head slowly.

"It's all blurry..." he said under his breath, trying his best to see Micky, wanting to see his expression.

"For how long?" Micky asked, placing his hand back on Mike's shoulder. Mike closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead.

"My head hurts," he muttered and could hear Micky let out a sigh.

"Michael, how long have you not been able to see?" He asked sternly, trying to get them back on topic.

Mike frowned and shrugged, turning away from Micky.

"Mike," Micky said with another sigh. "Could you look at me, please?"

"I'm trying," Mike whimpered slightly. Micky frowned, getting out of the bed and walking toward the other side. He got down on his knees beside the bed, right in front of Mike's line of vision.

"Can you look at me?" He asked again and this time, Mike agreed. Impulsively, he blinked and squinted, unsure of what he was even seeing.

"I'm trying..." he said again, rubbing his eyes, trying his best to see Micky in front of him, but it was harder than he wanted to admit. Everything was just blurry and beginning to blend in with one another, it was difficult to see anything at all.

Micky frowned, noticing Mike's eyes seemed to look everywhere but at him. He reached out and grabbed Mike's hand, squeezing it, bringing Mike back out of his head.

"How long?" Micky asked, trying to bring the conversation back as well. Mike sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"I don't know," he said quietly. "Uh...a few hours or so. Not long."

Micky closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Micky asked, rubbing Mike's hand gently. Mike frowned and shrugged.

"I-I don't know..." he said, his voice shaking slightly as he shifted around. "I-I guess I just didn't want you to worry about me."

Micky sighed, ready to give Mike the same lecture they had given him many times before. They worried because that was what friends did, just as Mike often worried and cared about them. Before he could say anything, there was a knock on the door and both looked up. Davy and Peter were standing in the doorway, worried expressions on their faces.

When he heard the footsteps and saw the blurry figures come in, Mike's eyes went wide, turning to face the floor, quickly pulling his hand away from Micky's grip.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked, going to him, worry and sadness etched on his face. Not that Mike could really see it.

"Mike?" Micky prompted, shooting him a look, silently asking Mike to say something. Mike let out a sigh and nodded.

"Yeah," he said, bringing a hand up to cover his eyes. "I'm fine."

Micky bit back a groan and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a slight sigh.

"Tell him the truth, Mike," he said quietly, causing Mike to shoot him a look. Mike's signature glare wasn't quite the same when he wasn't he wasn't able to look Micky in the eye.

"What's wrong?" Davy asked, his voice coming from behind him. Mike didn't bother to turn around as he blinked, rubbing his eyes again.

"I'm fine," he insisted. "I just have a bit of a headache. That's it."

Micky rolled his eyes, thankful Mike didn't notice it.

"Okay, Mike," he said, standing. "Whatever you say."

"Do you need anything?" Peter asked and Mike shook his head.

"I'm fine," he said quietly. "I think I just need to rest..."

"Okay," Peter nodded. "I hope you feel better."

Mike smiled slightly.

"Hmm, thanks," he hummed, pulling his hand from his face, keeping his eyes closed.

"Let's just let him rest," Micky whispered to the other two, putting on a smile. "I'll join you guys in a second."

Davy and Peter didn't seem too startled by the statement.

"Okay," Davy said with a nod. "Well, if you need anything in the meantime—"

"I'll ask," Mike interrupted, a slight amused smirk growing on his face.

Davy nodded and with a slight sigh, he and Peter left. Micky kept his fake smile until the second he knew they were out of sight.

The instant they were gone, the smile fell and Micky went over to his bed and grabbed the pillow, throwing it at Mike's legs.

"Hey!" He groaned, sitting up and squinting at Micky. "What was that for?"

"You tell me," Micky said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why did you lie?"

Mike rolled his eyes, laying back down and turning his back to Micky.

"I didn't," he said sternly, rubbing his eyes. "I do have a headache."

Micky groaned but let out a slight laugh, shaking his head.

"You can be impossible sometimes, you know that?" He muttered, laughing.

"It's fine," Mike insisted, closing his eyes. "Really. I can still see, it's just blurry."

Micky sighed, sitting down in his own bed.

"Fine," he said reluctantly. "But it's not nothing so you can't just pretend that—"

"We don't need another thing to worry about. Really, I'm fine," Mike muttered, reaching over and turning out the lamp. Micky frowned, turning to look at Mike for a moment. Even at his worst, Mike was never this resistant. Once he assumed his friend began to drift off, Micky let out the sigh he had been holding as he carefully crept out of the room.

Mike slept the rest of the day. It was slightly frightening to think about but they all chose not to worry. Like Mike had said, they didn't need another thing to worry about. They went about their days as normal, Micky was the one who cooked dinner, saving a plate for Mike for when he woke up. Davy had made a cup of tea for him, leaving it on the kitchen counter for him when he came down. They were all more worried about him than they wanted to admit, but couldn't help it.

10 pm came around, Peter and Davy had both gone to bed and Mike still hadn't come down. Micky let out a sigh and sat down at the phone. He knew Mike would hate him if he found out, but if he still hadn't come down yet, it was fair to say that it was much more than just a headache. Keeping a close eye on the stairs, he opened the yellow pages, flipping through until he found the number he was looking for.

Somehow, even this late, he was able to book an appointment with an optometrist for Mike. Even though Mike had insisted everything was fine, knowing their luck, it was very likely things wouldn't stay that way.

Tomorrow at noon, Mike was going to go to get his eyes checked, whether he wanted to or not. A part of him felt bad for forcing his friend to go, but he knew it was for the best. If Mike had his way, he wouldn't get any help at all, even far beyond the day he saw nothing at all.

Micky hung up the phone and turned out the lights, going upstairs into the bedroom.

"Hey, Mike?" He asked, noticing Mike in the same position he had been in hours.

"Mike? You awake?" He asked again, this time Mike groaned and rolled over onto his other side. Micky let out a sigh of relief and got into his own bed, allowing himself to slowly drift off.